


Dizzy

by Shadowwrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowwrite/pseuds/Shadowwrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's too dizzy to walk, he's too weak to talk terribly well, and now his ears are ringing louder than Dean's talking. Sam (8) and Dean (12) have to try to figure out what's making Sam ill, all while John's on a hunt. Sick!Sam Caring!Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> I just wanted to say thank you for coming and reading this, it means a lot. I hope you enjoy it, if you do please comment. If you hated it, please comment to. I love hearing what people know, it lets me grow as a writer, yes?
> 
> Also, I don't own Sam, Dean, Bobby, or John. But I did make a story about them anyway.
> 
> This is just the first chapter, let me know if it's any good and thank you again :D

For the first time in months Dean woke up before his little brother. Their dad had been out hunting something and hadn’t come back to the Motel last night, leaving Dean to put his seven year old brother to bed at a rather late time. Sam had thrown a fit because he didn’t want a burrito from the gas station across the street, eventually bargaining for half of one and a candy bar. After that, of course, Sam wanted to watch television with his brother, which wouldn’t have been an issue if it wasn’t for the fact that what Dean was watching would give Sam nightmares. Eventually Dean got Sam in bed and settled, falling asleep himself a few hours later.

Dean didn’t mind waking before Sam. If anything, he enjoyed the time to himself. It was strange, but he figured the other was just tired after nearly a day and a half of traveling in the Impala with their father. After an hour or two of watching television and snacking on a bag of chips he heard the younger stir.

“Mhmm, Dean?” The seven year old said, his voice hoarse and quiet, not uncommon for one who had just woken up. Dean leaned back in his spot, smiling a bit as he saw that his kid brother was alive.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” the older said, watching as Sam squirmed into awakeness.

“M’thirsty,” Sam muttered, rolling to his side with a small moan. Dean rolled his eyes. His brother was such a diva in the morning, and he could tell from the inflection in Sam’s voice that he wanted Dean to get him something to drink. Like Hell Dean was going to do that just because his brother was lazy.

“You’re not five, Sammy. You can get some water yourself,” Dean responded, breaking out his his ‘Mr. Mom’ voice. Sam sighed and slowly got up, grumbling and complaining to himself as he did so. The second grader stumbled towards the bathroom sink, filling a small styrofoam cup with cold water and taking a few small sips.

Sam woke up dizzy and lightheaded, but that wasn’t uncommon for him to experience in the mornings. It used to worry him, but Dean said that happened to him sometimes too and he just had to drink something and he’d feel better. The small boy shuffled back towards his bed, where he’d sit and watch television. He waited half an hour or so after finishing his glass of water, but his head was still spinning and if anything, he felt worse.

“Dean?” he asked again, the crummy way he was feeling leaking through in his voice. Dean, knowing every inflection, tone, and mannerism could tell that something was troubling the boy as soon as he heard his name called. With senses alert, Dean sat up to look at the boy, a small scowl on his face.

“Everything okay, Sammy?” he asked, studying the younger boy from a distance, knowing he’d be getting up in a moment to do a more thorough examination, making sure his little brother was alright.

“I don’t feel good,” Sam replied, a little frown on his face as he tried to stop the room from spinning – or maybe it was him who was spinning, he couldn’t really tell. Dean pursed his lips, not pleased with his little brother’s answer. The kid had just gotten over a nasty little virus two weeks or so ago; he didn’t need to be getting sick again so soon. Also, Sam’s answer had been extremely vague, leaving Dean with lots of questions that he was sure would bore his brother. The older stood up, walking over to Sam who was lying in his bed with his head resting against the headboard.

“You’re not getting sick again, are you?” Dean asked, sitting down next to his brother, placing his hand on the Sammy’s forehead and the other on the back of his neck. No fever, that was good. But if that wasn't the issue, than what was?

Sam shrugged, doing his best not to move too much because it would only make things worse. “Dizzy,” he muttered, wondering if closing his eyes would make things better.

“Hey, Sammy. Eyes over here,” Dean said, hitting Sam on the shoulder lightly so he’d focus. Sam sighed and opened his eyes, letting Dean look him over carefully. “You’ve been drinking water and stuff? You’ve got to do that,” the older chided lightly, hoping that was the issue. The only other thing he could think of that would make his brother feel such a way being a head injury or some other illness. He didn’t like the sound of either option. Dehydration was an easy fix, but the others were a bit more upsetting.

Sam nodded very lightly, pushing Dean’s hand off of him. “Yeah, got some this morning,” he said lightly, trying hard to keep focus on his brother.

“Didn’t hit your head?” Dean asked, refusing to move from Sam’s bedside, though he did his best not to touch him if that wasn’t what he wanted.

“No, just woke up and hurt. It’s getting worse,” Sam muttered, his stomach starting to ache from the confusion and spinning going on in his head.

Seeing his brother’s discomfort, Dean frowned. He hated seeing his brother sick just about as much as he hated not having answers, both of which he was facing at the moment. “Alright, well how about you close your eyes and try not to think about it? It’s probably something that will pass soon.”

Sam pouted but obeyed. He really wished Dean would make it better, would find some way to stop the entire world from spinning at a hundred miles an hour. Even though Sam considered his brother a superhero, truth was that Dean was just a twelve-year-old kid. The small boy closed his eyes and did as his brother told him to, though it wasn’t working well. “Dean?” He asked roughly five minutes later.

“Yeah?” his brother responded, having moved from his spot next to Sam and over to his own bed to clean the shotgun John had left for emergencies.

Sam looked over at his brother, giving him the best “I’m sick, come pay attention to me” face. He wanted Dean to come back over and tell him he would be alright, but refrained from saying it outright, knowing Dean would have some smart comment about how much of a baby he was acting like over some dizziness. Bur the fact was, Sam was still only a child and the way his head spun left him nauseous. Regardless of that, Sam was a Winchester and Winchesters were tough. Just two months ago he watched his father stitch himself up after a hunt, never complaining once about how much it had to have hurt. And not a week later he’d seen Dean break his nose and continue on with what he had to do, tears welling in his eyes only as John sat him down to straighten it out. Sam was a Winchester and Winchesters were brave; he wasn’t going to pansy out because his head was bothering him. Instead, he scrawny second grade boy pulled his blankets close and opened his eyes to focus on his older brother. “Still don’t feel good,” he murmured, hoping he didn’t come across as too whiney and needy.

Dean sighed, finishing what he was doing before sitting down next to his kid brother. He knew he must have been miserable; every way he carried himself showing it. He was slumped against his pillow, eyes closed ninety percent of the time as he worked on breathing steady. 

“I know, Sammy. But it’s only been a few minutes, wait it out, dude,” Dean said lightly, carding a hand through the boy’s shaggy brown hair. He knew that calmed Sam down sometimes, especially when he was worried about not feeling good.

Sam closed his eyes and let a small whimper escape from his closed mouth. Dean, frowned. His Sammy _was_ miserable and he didn’t know how to fix it. Hoping that it was just some sort of freak headache or migraine thing, the older kept a small positive smile on his face and moved to sit next to his younger brother, resting against the headboard to allow Sam to lean on him. And Sam did just that, Dean knew it. When the boy felt bad, nine out of ten times he just wanted to lay on something warm and comforting – that thing being Dean more often than not.

Slowly, Sam lowered his head so that it rested against his brother’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while willing himself to feel better. Dean ran one hand up and down Sam’s back, looking around the room for something to concentrate on while his brother was resting. It wasn’t that he was ignoring Sam, if anything he was hypersensitive to the boy’s actions, but he could only watch his brother sit there with such a pained expression on his face for so long.

Twenty minutes had passed and if anything, Sam was feeling worse, his small hand grasping at Dean’s shirt lightly. Dean had kept himself busy by humming whatever song came into his mind while pausing for moments at a time to reassure Sam that he was fine, even though worry was growing in his chest with every passing minute Sam didn’t perk up and claim he was fine. As for not thinking about whatever was wrong with Sam, both boys were doing a shitty job at it. Dean knew Sam hated being sick, more so than other children, constantly worrying that the indigestion from dinner was food poisoning or his sore throat from sleeping with his mouth open was actually more. It was quite annoying really, John never having the patience to explain that every stomachache wasn’t the flu. Dean was always the one to sit him down and explain that things would be okay. But Sam had never felt like this before, not for this long and certainly not to such an extent. Dean hadn’t had anything quite like this either, so he really had nothing to go on himself. That worried him quite a bit.

Sam started to squirm in Dean’s arms, the knot in his stomach growing, which made him anxious. “Dean...” Sam whimpered, not liking what was going on in his body.

Dean noticed it too, knowing all to well what was going to happen. “It’s okay Sammy. Let’s get you up, okay?” Dean said, helping his brother upright. But moving only made things worse, the spinning increasing with every inch he moved. Sam didn’t even have time to utter out a word before his stomach lurched and remains of his gas station dinner could be found across his shirt, sheets, and the already grimy carpet floor. It didn’t make the dizzy feeling stop, though, but instead made his throat sore and worries worse.

Sam sighed and leaned back against his brother, disgusted with himself and what had happened – what might continue to happen – while being utterly terrified as to what was going on.

Dean was staring down at his brother, trying to figure out the best way to get Sam up and maneuver them to the bathroom before they experienced a repeat performance. “Dude, gross,” Dean said lightly, doing his best to keep it from sounding like he was too worried or disgusted. He knew his worry would only make Sam more terrified and his feelings about vomit on his shoes would only embarrass the boy further. Dean’s attempts at keeping his brother calm, however, weren’t working so well. “Can you walk?” he asked, sitting up just a bit more.

Sam groaned, thinking about it for a moment. He felt like complete shit, but he was tough, just like Dean. Winchester boys were strong and brave and although Sammy was on the verge of tears he assured himself that seven steps to the bathroom would be manageable. 

He had been wrong. 

After nodding and mumbling an affirmation, Sam slowly got up with Dean’s hand against his back for support. One foot in front of the other, that’s what he told himself as he tried to snap out of the nauseating blindness that was caused from the feeling he was spinning one hundred miles an hour. He picked up his first foot, his dizziness taking the best of him, leaving him to topple over onto the worn out carpet.

Dean’s body tensed as he saw his brother fall, not having fast enough reflexes to catch him. His baby brother really must be sick, if he was so weak he couldn’t even take a few steps, meaning Dean would have to find a way to drag his brother to the bathroom before he got sick again. The older stood up and bent down over Sam, placing a hand on his brother’s back, pulling him up to see the tear stained face of his sick kid brother.

Sam had tried to be strong, he’d tried so hard to be all right, but he couldn’t. He felt like he was on a tilt-a-hurl ride from a fair, only it never stopped to let him off. He couldn’t walk and was covered in his own sick, there was no way he could keep calm now. He was terrified. Nothing was how it was supposed to be and he couldn’t stop it. The tears welling in his eyes didn’t fall, however, until he tried to sit himself back up and couldn’t, requiring his brother’s help to do the simplest thing. Doing his best to keep from crying hard enough that he couldn’t breathe, Sam looked up at his brother and took one deep, slightly broken breath.

“D-Dean—” he muttered out, not only terrified as for what was wrong with him, but also slightly embarrassed that he was so unable to do something as simple as walk.

Dean could see Sam was terrified, he knew how the boy was feeling and was trying to figure out just how to fix it. “It’s okay. Calm down, alright?” Dean said, helping Sam stand and lean on him as he practically dragged the kid to the bathroom, making it in just enough time for him to roughly make it to the toilet for another bout of puking. Dean grabbed a cheap towel off the wall before sitting down next to his brother, scrubbing off the chunks of Sam’s food that found his way to his shirt while rubbing Sam’s back lightly. “Easy, Sammy” he muttered, his hand still rubbing the other’s back as he heard some forced choking sounds coming from Sam a few moments later. After a few minutes of Sam’s body trying to turn itself inside out, the young boy’s stomach finally calmed a bit, leaving him limp over the toilet, one hand resting on the seat, the other brushing over an ear that was now ringing.

“Mm’d’ne” Sam muttered, voice muffled through the toilet bowl. Dean forced a small smile on his face and patted Sam on the back lightly before helping sit him up against the wall opposite. The older brother looked over his sick, miserable, and now somewhat exhausted kid brother, deciding that the best plan of action was to get him changed and cleaned up, maybe that would make him feel better.

“Alright, Sammy. I’m going to be back real soon, we’ll bet you cleaned up,” He said, messing with Sam’s hair before standing up to go find his brother’s duffel for a new shirt. Once out of Sam’s line of vision, the twelve year old let his calm demeanor dissolve for a few moments--only a few. He couldn’t allow himself to break for too long, only because it would do no good if he continued to outwardly worry. Three seconds of panic while he dug an old shirt of Sam’s, one that was his up until last year when he grew six inches taller, the shirt becoming too small for his new torso. He took two deep breaths and a forced smile before he entered the small bathroom again, fresh shirt in hand.

“Alright, I’m back. Now, let’s get that shirt off of you,” Dean said, already bent down in front of his brother. Sam hadn’t stopped crying, his brave face having left him a while ago, not that Dean truly believed when he was trying to be tough, he knew his brother too well to believe such things.

The older carefully peeled the soiled shirt off of his brother and threw it in the shower away from the two of them. Before helping his brother into a new shirt, he took a damp washcloth and cleaned the lingering mess down Sam’s chin and parts of his chest. The boy didn’t make any complaints, he simply sat there and moaned, tears falling down his cheeks silently.

“Hey, how’re you doing, kidoo?” Dean asked carefully, wiping at some of the salty tears down his brother’s cheek. Sam opened his eyes lightly, trying to focus on his big brother, though the light hurt his head, something he didn’t need, especially since every little movement made him spin faster.

“Mm’ts’ringin” the younger muttered, bringing a weak hand up to his ear, rubbing at it in an attempt to make it stop. It was much louder than Dean’s voice. Sam had to concentrate very hard in order to hear his brother, which only frightened him more, tears still finding their way down his face.

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of Sam’s slurred speech, but it worried him. _It’s ringing_ —Did he mean his ears? It would only make sense, as Sam was rubbing them now. That wasn’t good. It was bad enough that he was dizzy and puking and could barely walk, but now his ears were ringing? Bad enough to have him complain about it?

“Your ears? They’re ringing?” Dean asked, taking the hand away from his ear because honestly it was very worrying. Sam groaned in response, not daring to move anymore.

“Loud,” Sam muttered, squeezing Dean’s hand. This was terrifying; he’d never heard of anyone feeling like this, he had no reason to believe he was okay, even deem seemed worried. Dean knew his brother too well, even when he didn’t let on. He’d know when Dean was upset or worried, like he was now.

“Okay, hold on,” Dean muttered, messing with Sammy’s hair like he did when they were messing around, hoping it would calm him down, if only slightly. “It’ll be okay,” he added as he got to the doorframe.

As soon as Dean was out of Sam’s line of vision, which was non-existent now that his eyes were closed, he ran towards the telephone to call the only person he knew could help: Bobby. Dad wouldn’t help; he only got irritated when he was on a job and bothered. Bobby, for all Dean knew, wasn’t busy and would be willing to help however he could. The twelve year old dialed the number he knew by heart and waited. One ring, two rings. He was growing more and more impatient until finally the ringing stopped and Dean heard the man pick up the receiver.

“Hello?” Bobby answered, his voice rough and familiar, causing Dean to sigh with relief as he leaned against the wall for only a moment.

“Bobby? It’s Dean Winchester,” he said, his voice rushed though he still did his best to keep the panic out of his voice for the time being. There was a two second pause before the other line answered.

“Dean? Why’re you calling me? Your Daddy on a hunt?” Bobby asked, feeling a little concerned that the boy was calling him. That would only mean that he needed something and his father wasn’t around to help.

Dean let his walls break a little, the fact that his father wasn’t around to help, that he needed help and couldn’t go to him. He didn’t even know if Bobby could help, but it was his only option. He had to try. 

“Yeah, Dad’s on a hunt,” he explained quietly, leaning against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, a moment to collect himself. “Listen,” he continued, sounding a bit stronger and more confident, though that wouldn’t last long. “Sam is sick. Like, really sick. He’s dizzy and can’t walk and he’s been puking. His ears are ringing too and you can’t tell me that’s normal. Something’s wrong with him, he needs a doctor and I’m not old enough to get him to one.” His words sped up as the worry in his gut started to bubble again. He was only twelve. He just started middle school. How was he supposed to get his little brother better? Dad wouldn’t be back until late tonight, or even tomorrow. Dean couldn’t wait that long, Sammy needed help and he needed it now.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, boy. It ain’t going to do you any good getting all worked up like that,” Bobby told him, trying to calm the boy down. That didn’t sound good, and not quite like anything he’d ever dealt with. He agreed with the Dean that Sam needed to see a doctor. “Where are you?” He asked, wondering how long it’d take for Dean to get to him.

Dean didn’t even hesitate when Bobby asked the question. He was in some piss-small town in New York. Trying hard to remember the name Dean closed his eyes and pressed the phone closer to his face.

“New York,” he supplied quickly, opening his eyes and looking around, grabbing the stationary on the nightstand and hoping that would give him the answer. “Riverside!” He yelled, extremely relieved that they had ended up staying at the Riverside Motel on the edge of town.

Dean could hear Bobby swear over the phone, he was across the country right now and wouldn’t be able to get these in time to help his boys personally. “Alright, I’ll make some calls, see if there’s anyone in the area” Bobby said after a few moments, hanging up before he could hear Dean mutter:

“Bobby, I’m scared.”


	2. Hospital Visits and Bitchy Nurses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby finds someone to get the boys to the hospital. Dean's protectiveness goes into hyperdrive and he stops trusting anyone around him, including the bitchy nurses and fake doctors he has to deal with to try and get Sam better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words can not describe how sorry I am for not adding this sooner. I really hope you all don't hate me, I promise I'll be updating more often now, I just got busy and lazy and I'm so so sorry. Also, sorry this is a little shorter, but there will be more I promise. Comments, as always are appreciated. Any sort of feedback, really. I'm sorry again. I love you all, though, if that helps at all.

Listening to the monotone note on the phone meaning Bobby had hung up for a while, Dean eventually got up and moved back to where his brother was. “Alright, Sammy” He said, trying to act as if nothing was wrong, as if he’d gotten his strength back. He had to, in a sense. He was the one caring for Sam and Sam couldn’t know that he was scared senseless right now. “Bobby’s helping. We’ll get you feeling better soon” He said, lifting Sam up from under his armpits. Thankfully the kid didn’t puke again, his severe vertigo had subsided only slightly.

Sammy still wasn’t feeling great, though. Leaning against Dean, the two shuffled back to the cleaner of the two beds and sat down, waiting for a second call from Bobby. Whining slightly, Sam pressed his face into Dean’s chest, forcing Dean to sit and play with his hair to keep him as calm as possible. After fifteen minutes of impatiently waiting, the phone went off once more and left Sam whimpering. Without bothering to calm the younger boy in his arms, Dean jumped for the phone to answer.

“Hello?” He answered, a bit too excited. He waited another two seconds before Bobby answered, two seconds of silence that Dean really didn’t like. 

“Dean? I found someone. Names Richard. Said he’d take you two to the hospital.” Bobby said, sounding a bit frustrated. “He owes me a favor. Anyway, he’s forty minutes away, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir” Dean replied, nodding at the information. It wasn’t ideal, he didn’t know the person coming to bring them to the hospital, but they knew Bobby, owed him a favor. It was all he had, he had to put his trust in this. “Forty minutes, got it” 

Behind the phone, Bobby nodded. He was in the middle of packing, getting a few things he might need before making a trip out cross country to see his boys. “Hey, Dean” He said right before he felt the boy about to hang up. 

“Yeah?” He asked, leaning over the receiver of the phone, ready to hang up and keep Sam calm until someone came for them, but welcoming Bobby’s voice at the same time.

“How’s Sam?” His voice was lowered, worried and trusting of Dean’s opinion. That kid knew Sam better than sam knew himself, he was in good hands with Dean.

Looking over at his kid brother, Dean sighed, running his hand through the younger’s hair. “How’re you doin’ Sammy?” He asked, his words lighter and lacking the worry he was actually feeling. He was terrified, but he had to pretend he wasn’t for Sam. Sam couldn’t be afraid. He waited until he got a soft groan followed by a weak and obviously not so good “ ‘M good” before he responded to Bobby. “He’s good.”

 

************************

 

_Knock Knock Knock_

Dean’s gaze shot up towards the door. Richard, that guy who owed Bobby a favor, it had to be him. Sitting Sam up before laying him back down against the pillows, Dean slipped out from under him and grabbed the shotgun John had left him with. He couldn’t ever be too careful, a lesson he’d been taught from a very early age.

Ready to shoot if he needed to, Dean slowly opened the door, facing a taller, somewhat larger man with two day old stubble and a dirty face. Not realizing he would be faced by a twelve year old ready to fire at him, the man, Richard frowned but held his arms up in surrender. 

“Woah, hey there. I’m supposed to be giving you a ride. You’ve got a sick brother, yeah? Friend of Bobby’s......somehow” he explained, looking down on the kid. He was protective, that was for sure, and fit the description he was given, but he was twelve. There was none such thing as twelve year old hunters, it was uncomfortable and wrong. Dean could sense this, and from the start knew he didn’t like the man standing in front of him. He was their ride, though. He could see his large, red pickup truck sitting in the spot where the Impala sat a day ago. Grimacing, but eventually coming to, Dean closed the door most of the way and went to get Sam.

“Come on, Sammy” Dean said, helping Sammy up and off the bed. Still leaning heavily on him, but mildly upright, Dean walked with him until they got back to the door. A look telling the man not to say anything, Dean moved forward, closed the door, and headed towards the truck. Richard tried to help, but Dean wouldn’t have any of it. He didn’t want the man near his baby brother. Just because he had to trust this man didn’t mean he had to trust him with Sam. The boy still looked miserable, and after a few attempts of getting the two of them in the cab of the truck, Dean finally got it and Sam resting against him.

It was small and cramped and smelled like stale french fries. Sam didn’t like it, and neither did Dean. “Just....make it quick” He said, playing with Sam’s hair as he kid groaned and slumped against him. Richard nodded and turned on the car, music blaring as the engine fired up. Whimper coming from Sam, Dean nearly pulled the radio out. He settled for turning the volume all the way down very quickly and very angrily. “And quiet” He added, growling at the other.

It was almost an hour before they got to the closest hospital. It was too hot, too tense, too filled with Sam trying to be strong and Dean seeing straight past it, making him worry more. Deciding that this was pointless, Dean slipped one arm under Sam’s legs, the other behind his back, kicking the door open before walking into the emergency room with Sam. It was more difficult than he imagined, but Sam was still small enough for Dean to be able to cary, even if it was awkward.

“It’s okay, Sam. We’re here, we’ll get you back and ready to go in no time” He whispered to him, finding the front desk and demanding that someone get him a doctor right now.

“Are you their father?” the nurse asked, causing Dean to turn around and growl. “No” He spat, his face softening only after he saw the look on the nurse’s face. Sighing, Dean shook his head. “He’s a family friend, he drove us here.” he said, looking back down at Sammy for a minute. “Can we get him to see a doctor now? Or at least get him a wheelchair or _something?,_ ” Dean nearly begged, allowing himself to look a little more scared and sad in hopes that it would get Sam seeing someone sooner.

After the bitchy nurse and Dean finished a short stare off, a stretcher was brought into the room and Dean and Sam were brought back to another room behind two swinging doors.

“Allergies?” He was asked.

“Penicillin” Dean responded automatically. A pen scribbled against a piece of paper on a clip board.

“Age?” 

“Seven”

“Name?”

“Sam”

“Last name?” Dean paused. Was he supposed to tell their last name? They didn’t have insurance, he knew that. Would Dad get mad? He really didn’t want to deal with that. But if he gave a fake name, would he be mad? A bit nervous, and unable to properly decide what he wanted to say, Dean spat out the first last name he could think of. 

“Singer”

“Sam Singer? Age seven, allergic to penicillin?” It sounded weird, but Dean had to go with it. They could be Singer’s, Bobby wouldn’t mind. He couldn’t now, it’s what Dean had said.

“Yes ma’am” Dean nodded, staying close to his brother, holding his hand to let him know he was still there, not caring if the nurse was giving him strange looks.

“And your name?”

“Dean” He said quickly, nodding and looking up at the woman.

“Dean.....” Dean nodded again “Where do you live?”

“We’re on vacation. Dad had a business trip”

“Where do you live?”

“We were staying at the Motel. The Riverside Motel” The nurse hummed and nodded, a small pout on her face as she wrote down the rest of the information.

“Your father?”

“Business trip”

“Where?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Who was staying with you?”

“The guy who drove us, Richard.” He said, annoyed that he didn’t look old enough to care for the two of them by himself. He was, and he had been for a while. He’d been taking care of Sam on overnight trips for a little over a year now. It wasn’t the best situation, but it was better than being dumped with Bobby or some other hunter for days on end. At least he had his freedom.

“Have you called your dad?”

“I think Bobby called him”

“Bobby?” Shit. Dean, get your shit together. You were making this too complicated. Sam needed help. Give straight, quick answers, get Sammy the help he needed. He needed it, and you needed as little drama as possible.

“My Uncle”

“Would you like to call your father?”

“I’d like to get Sam a doctor” Dean responded, now quite upset that she hadn’t asked about the kid yet. She was probably only here for insurance reasons, or worse, a social worker. He’d heard that’s what happens when there’s not an actual parent or something with the kids. He should have pretended he was closer to Richard. Shit, this was all his fault.

A frown on the lady’s face because she’d just been talked down to by a kid, she sighed. “Doctor will be with you shortly” She said, filling some more things on her clip board. “What’s wrong with Sam, anyway?”

“I’d rather talk to someone who’d do something about it” Dean spat, tightening his hold on Sam’s hand as he moaned lightly at the commotion. It stayed silent for half a minute before a doctor walked in, all smiles. Probably because he was told he was dealing with kids. Doctors thought that just because they smiled that kids automatically thought everything would be alright. How much he’d love to tell the man to stow his shit, that that shit didn’t work on him, he was smarter than that. 

“Well, what’s happened here?” He asked, moving to Sam, taking a few rubber gloves out of the box in the corner, snapping them at the ends.

“He’s sick. He’s dizzy and can’t really walk. He threw up a few times and said his ears were ringing. He can’t have penicillin and isn’t really in the mood to talking a lot” Dean said, shrugging. “At least, he’s a lot more likely to moan at you than actually use words” He clarified.

The doctor nodded, doing a rather long but relatively routine check over on Sam. After he was finished he sighed and looked towards Dean. “We’re going to bring him in to run some tests, alright?”

“What kind of tests?” Dean demanded, straightening his back and standing up, frowning at the other.

“Standard tests” He said shortly, not trusting a kid as short as Dean to know what the different tests were, nor did he want to take the time to try and explain it all to him. “You’ll have to wait outside until he’s finished”

“Wait-wha?” He asked, frowning and moving towards Sam, though he was pushed away as Sam was wheeled out the door. Dean fought, and pushed past the doctor to be with his brother. Sam was sick, Sam was scared, Sam needed Dean and Dean needed Sam. They couldn’t take him away like that, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t okay. Dean had to protect him, how was he going to do that with his brother somewhere he didn’t know? He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t allow it.

The boy heard someone call for help, but he didn’t care, he was next to Sam again. “You hear that? Just some tests and then we’ll know what’s wrong and it’ll be-” But someone had touched his shoulder.

“Son, you’ve got to let him be. Your brother needs to get tests to know if we can make him better. You want him to get better, don’t you?”

“Don’t talk down to me” Dean demanded, turning around to see a male nurse trying to talk to him.

“I’m not, but you can’t-”

“Don’t tell me that. He needs me, I’m his brother!” Dean said, getting angry with the man. This continued until they reached the end of the hall, where Dean wasn’t allowed to go past. He put up a good fight, the best one he had to keep with his brother, but eventually he was overpowered. He’d started a ruckus, chaos that would have to be thinned out eventually. Dean didn't’ care, though. His Sam was being taken away from him, and that wasn’t acceptable. He fought as long as he could, until eventually he had three men holding him from entering that door and finding Sam, screaming “He’s my brother! Let me go! Let. Me. Go! He needs me!”


	3. Uncle Bobby Comes To Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With John nowhere to be found and Dean worrying himself more, Bobby comes to visit the boys, hoping they'll get a diagnosis and maybe some sleep soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello!   
> Okay so it took me a little longer to update than I wanted, I'm sorry. Also, sorry this chapter is really sort. The next one won't be, I promise.

Twenty-two hours of driving with two ten minute breaks and Bobby was in New York, his truck pulling into the hospital parking lot. Ten calls to John, but nothing came of any of them. He knew that would matter to Dean, but at the moment there was nothing he could do but make sure the boys were taken care of and as healthy as possible.

It took him all of five minutes to find someone who could help him find where his boys were. Second floor, room 213. Easy enough to find, it was simply to the elevator, down the hall to the left, sitting on the right hand side across from the nurses station. Pediatrics, two person room with a family who had a child that had had a bad asthma attack the night before stationed out. The bed next to the window covered in flowers, two parents holding the seven year old’s hand, smiles and games. The other side of the room was quite the contrast. Laying in the bed, wearing a hospital gown that was a size too big was Sam, who was griping about something. Sitting next to him was Dean, holding a cup of water with a bendy straw in it, trying to get Sam to sip at it.

“Boys” Bobby said as he walked in. He was exhausted, but not nearly as exhausted as Dean looked. He would bet a hundred dollars that boy hadn’t slept since Sam got sick. And that was only counting normal exhaustion. The boy had been worrying. He could tell that he’d put up a fight at some point, and when he wasn’t fighting or getting Sam to do something, he was pacing around, hoping Sam would get better soon. He had to be at least three days worth of exhausted and not the thirty six hours he’d probably been up.

A smile spread across Sam’s face as he saw Bobby in the doorway and for a moment Dean relaxed. He turned his head and looked up at Bobby, walking towards the man and giving him a hug, though he only came up just past Bobby’s middle still. It was an awkward hug, but comfort for him none the less. Stepping back a moment later, realizing that he’d just shown weakness, that he hadn’t been a soldier, Dean cleared his throat and looked down. “Thank you for coming, Uncle Bobby” He said, looking up at the man before moving back to the hard plastic seat next to Sam’s bed. There was another one next to him, holding a few pages of paper with scribbles of something on it, Dean’s jacket, and a plastic bag labeled PATIENT’S BELONGINGS with Sam’s clothes in it.

“Course. How you boys holding up?” Bobby asked, clearing his throat lightly, moving the things on the chair to the floor next to it and sitting down. Dean shrugged and fiddled with his hands, something he’d probably done for hours before this, Bobby thought.

“Better” Sam piped up when Dean didn’t immediately speak for him. His voice was quiet and tired sounding. The poor kid was a shade paler than Bobby thought he should be, or had ever been, and he had bags under his eyes that could compete for the spot of darker with pitch black or midnight. He had two IV’s in his arm, taped there where he was supposed to keep it still so they didn’t come out. He was talking though, he was awake. That was good. As far as Bobby knew, it was something he’d recover from. He was rather sure that if it wasn’t, the atmosphere would be something completely different.

“Good” Bobby said firmly, putting a large hand on the kid’s skinny leg, offering a small smile, a small sign of reassurance. He sighed and looked over at the older boy, taking his second hand and clapping him on the back. Dean almost seemed to collapse under it. He was exhausted, and quite possibly malnourished, dehydrated, and lacking any sort of care for himself at all. He wouldn’t put it past the boy. Sam always came first, Bobby knew that. He remembered one Christmas when John had dropped the boys off at Bobby’s for a few weeks, Sam had gotten a nasty stomach bug and Dean had gone two days without showering or even eating for himself unless Bobby pushed at it. He’d done everything for the kid, as if Dean was the only thing keeping Sam safe. In many ways that was true, but Bobby would never admit it. He was there for them, and John was doing his best, he knew that. Dean knew that too, but only Dean knew how to care for Sam, Sam only cooperated with Dean and they both knew that. Bobby wasn’t going to get in the way, he was only here to make sure everything stayed alright.

Letting another few moments of silence between them fall, Bobby shook his head and licked his lips. “Doctors say anything?” He asked, looking to Dean, knowing the kid would know. The boy straightened up and nodded, looking over to Bobby, then to the pile on the floor next to him. He bent down and grabbed the papers with scribbles on them. Each one had a different title, each one had different bullet points and codes on it that Bobby didn’t take time to fully read or understand. 

“They won’t talk to me without Dad, but I’ve been searching.” Dean said, causing Bobby to raise an eyebrow. First of all, not telling Dean what was going on was a very bad idea and he knew it. But second to that, how the hell had the kid done research? It’s not as if he was any sort of doctor to know the symptoms himself, and he doubted Dean had left Sam for very long to go someplace like a library to look up a way to try and diagnose him. Dean realized Bobby’s surprise and decided to continue, but not until he’d drawn the drape separating the family in the other side of the room from him. “The nurses have this really big book behind their desk” he said, flipping through his pages once more, more out of just something to do than anything else. “I stole it the other night. They said his blood all came back fine, and they thought it could be something to do with his ear, or with a head injury...but Sammy hasn’t hit his head...that I know of” Dean said, handing the pages to Bobby before turning back to Sam, running a hand through his hair, checking his temperature absentmindedly, though it wasn’t raised to anything to be concerned about.

Bobby looked through the pages, seeing different titles of medical terms he hadn’t ever heard of or had to use in his life. Pictures and X’s were drawn next to words that described things. Check marks next to what he assumed Sam’s symptoms were, a right proper list for Dean to look through and change. The older man hummed and nodded, a small frown on his face. This was an awful work for Dean to do, but again, Sam came first. “You think they know what’s wrong with him?” Bobby finally asked, handing the list back. Dean threw it back on the floor.

“No. I think if they knew they’d at least explain to me what it was that was wrong. They’re being too slow” Dean huffed, obviously getting irritated with the fact that they didn’t have an answer yet. 

Bobby nodded.

“I’ll talk to them and see if they have any new answers” he promised, standing up with a grunt and heading towards the door. “But first I’m hungry. You boys want anything from the cafeteria?” He asked. Both denied anything, but Bobby already had plans on getting Dean a proper meal. Sam most likely had ones coming to him that Dean would make him eat, but making Dean eat was something he would have put behind himself, deemed unimportant. The man went out in search for a doctor and a sandwich.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later and no luck. Bobby had managed to find something for both him and Dean to eat, but the doctor on call was busy and wouldn’t talk with him, even after he demanded it. Frustrated and tired, the man returned back to the room where Sam had fallen asleep and Dean looked like he was about to.

“Hey” Bobby said, sitting down in the chair again, tossing Dean his turkey sandwich and giving him a look that told him to eat it. The boy gave him a weak smile and responded

“Hey, did you find the doctor?” He yawned towards the end of his sentence, leaning back in his chair, hand still holding Sammy’s.

“No” Bobby said, obviously still grumpy about it. “He’s making his rounds. He should be here soon” He added, hoping that was actually true.

Dean nodded, biting into his sandwich tentatively, making no expression to show how he was feeling about the taste of it. Bobby felt it was bland, but it was hospital food, it was supposed to be bland. He finished his meal in a few bites and scooted closer to Dean, looking down at the kid. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Maybe he’ll know what’s wrong today” Dean said a few minuets later, setting his half a sandwich on his lap.

“Yeah” Bobby said, looking down at Dean. He was exhausted, he looked like he was about to drop off any second now. “Listen, boy, Why don’t you rest? I’ll man the fort for a while” Bobby offered, hoping he would take the deal.

Dean frowned, mulling the thought over for a few long moments before sighing. “Wake me when the doctor comes” he murmured, yawning once more. He looked back over at Sammy, who looked too small and helpless, but knew would be okay. He was always okay, that’s what Sam was: strong. He always found a way to bounce back.  
“Yeah, sure” Bobby said, looking at the boy in the bed sadly, letting his mind wander. A few minutes of thought later, Bobby felt something slump against his side. Sure enough the kid had fallen asleep, still stuck on the need to protect Sam. A small smile on his face, Bobby ruffled his hair and chuckled to himself. The kid wasn’t waking up anytime soon.


End file.
